Out in the garden
As I dig in the dirt.
My mind thinks on you.
As my eyes watch the worms slipping away.
I smell the dirt
and the green of leaves.
I hear the crackle
of old sticks breaking under my foot.
The winging and chirping of birds
do not escape my ear.
My focus is on the plants
But my mind does double time.
Here,
I can be with you....and with me.
To think and think why
It isn't to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely written though if I'm reading this right, Is the poet saying that someone is buried in the garden? .Curious.